


The blood you bleed is just the blood you owe

by MadLulu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CEO Jango Fett, Flirting, Jangobi Week (Star Wars), M/M, No Smut, PI Obi-Wan Kenobi, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29184744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadLulu/pseuds/MadLulu
Summary: “Lost something?”He freezes by reflex. Damn it. Now he looks guilty. He schools his expression to a neutral surprise.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 104
Collections: Jangobi Week





	The blood you bleed is just the blood you owe

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take for Day 3 of Jangobi Week: Undercover!  
> This is a complete AU where Obi-Wan's PI agency is hired to spy on Jango for Satine. That's all the context you get because that's all the context I could come with xD  
> Hope you like it! Long Live Jangobi!

He lost his comm. Mace is going to kill him. It was supposed to be a simple recon. Make a tour of the floor under the pretense of being a lost tourist, use his pretty face to confuse the eventual security and assess the place, hide some listening devices. Piece of cake, easy routine. Except. His comm is not in his pocket anymore. This is not normal. No one suspicious bumped him and he would have known if he was pickpocketed. And he didn’t ditch it.

He’s searching the bins in the hallway as discreetly as he can. Nothing so far. He’s in very deep. Why does this kind of things always happen to him? It’s not like he looks for trouble. Someone is coming in the corner, footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. He contains a swear. There is a door just on his right, some kind of meeting room. Empty. He shuts the door behind him and sags against it, a sigh of relief stuck in his throat.

The footsteps take way too long to go away. Right. His comm. He should find it, it must be on this floor. It has to. He can’t leave evidence like this behind. He breathes out slowly, tries to relax. Logically, there is no way he could have dropped his comm before he noticed its disappearance. It was in a zipped pocket on the inside of his vest.

He opens the door just a bit and glances in the opening. No one. No sound. Good. He gets back out in the hallway. Maybe he should contact Mace. He was more or less supposed not to need back-up but, in this situation… Urg, he hates-

“Lost something?”

He freezes by reflex. Damn it. Now he looks guilty. He schools his expression to a neutral surprise.

“Ha! You scared me!”

Not a security guard. The suit is way too nice, expensive and well cut. Broad shoulders, dark skin, brown curls. The man is handsome and he absolutely knows that face, it was in his briefing. He’s fucked.

“I’m very sorry. I fear I am lost and I didn’t come across anyone to help me.”  
“That’s not surprising, this floor is not accessible to visitors. You should have passed security to get here.”

He blinks. Twice. He’s not panicking. He needs to get the fuck out right now.

“I didn’t see anyone. Maybe they were taking a break? I’m sorry, where are my manners? I am Ben Jinn. Maybe you could show me the way to the exit?”  
“Jango Fett. This way.”

Fett takes him by the arm to guide him. The gesture is not here to hurt but it’s a warning. So much for recon. Forget Mace, Kryze is gonna have his _head_ and it will be well deserved. He was not supposed to cross path with the target.

“I am terribly sorry. I was supposed to meet someone at the lawyer cabinet on the… Was it the 3rd floor? I must have pressed the wrong button in the elevator.”  
“The lawyer firm is on the 5th floor.”  
“Oh… I must have noted it wrong. I hope it’s not too much trouble. I could have found the exit with directions.”

Fett gives him a suspicious look and shakes his head. Right. Maybe he should not antagonize the already suspicious man. Especially when he’s built like some sort of war veteran. Which he is. Fuck his life.

He was never more relieved in his life than when they finally get to the elevator and he can see himself out. Without his comm. Fuck. As the elevator’s door are closing, Fett puts a hand on them and he leans in with a predatory smile that sends shivers down his spine.

“Tell Satine that if she wants to speak with me, she doesn’t need to send me her boytoy. She has my number.”

Did he recognize him? He can’t, he was very careful never to be seen in their client’s company. The doors finally close and he sags in relief against the wall. Kryze is _definitely_ going to kill him.

* * * *

Mace is pinching his brow. He hates when he does that. He already knows he’s a disaster. He sags even more on his chair and looks guiltily at his boss. It’s not like he chose to lose his comm or cross Jango Fett. The man was not even supposed to _be_ in the building.

“You were supposed to only do some recon on site and plant a few bugs. How in the hell did you manage to entirely compromise a routine mission?”

He winces and shrugs, the question is rhetorical of course, Mace knows exactly what happened. He honestly suspects Fett knew he was in the building from the start. He probably didn’t actually lose his comm anyway. It’s a complete disaster and Kryze asked to cancel the contract the moment he made his debrief. Not that he regrets it very much, the blonde grates on his nerves.

“Am I free to go?”

Mace sighs and signals him to leave. He gets his things in the closet that’s used as a changing room and drops his equipment. His day was just the final touch to an already crappy week. He needs to think of something else than his streak of bad luck on the job. Maybe Quin would be amenable to a night out?

* * * *

Quinlan drags him to a club, saying he needs the distraction. He was thinking more of a bar than dancing when he proposed a friendly date. It’s not his usual mood or ambiance. The music is loud, the dancefloor is packed and he’s sticking to the counter with his drink, sipping it while watching Quin. He sighs and drains his drink. The bass are thumping in his chest like an oversized heart.

A hand reaches from behind him and puts a small black box beside his glass. The dark-skinned man attached to the hand is leaning against him, chest radiating warmth in his back and he inhales sharply.

“This belongs to you, I believe.”

He contains a full-body flinch, still winces and turns his head slowly. The dark eyes of Jango Fett stare at him with indulgence, almost an apology in his gaze.

“I don’t know what this is,” he lies.  
“Hmhm. I’m not mad. I knew who you were this afternoon. I prefer to handle security issues personally but it was not my intention to put you in trouble with your boss.”  
“I get it,” he sighs as he pockets the box containing his comm. “Thank you for bringing it back to me, I guess.”

Fett smiles slowly. He’s not in a suit anymore, he notes. His arms are on display, the white sleeves of his shirt rolled up. Maybe he wasn’t following him? He looks dressed for the club, dark leather pants and hair slightly tousled. He looks edible to be honest. And he probably had one drink too many but he can surely appreciate it.

“You didn’t come here just to give me this, I hope.”  
“No,” Fett laughs. Damn, he likes that sound. “I was actually here to relax. Not unlike you?” he asks, pointing at his empty drink.  
“Yes, my friend is here somewhere. You’re alone?”

Fett laughs again and shakes his head. His gaze turns speculative and he shivers. There is interest here, want too maybe. He’s not his target anymore. He could lean into it. If he wanted to.

“My drink is empty. Do you want to dance?”  
“With you?” the man teases him. “You’re going to leave me full of bugs and without my wallet.”

He laughs. He could if he wanted. But no. He wants something different and it was just a job. He turns completely on his stool, his thigh encircling Fett’s hips as he slots in the V of his legs.

“Or we can skip the dance…” he suggests. “Go directly to what comes after.”

He slips one hand under the shirt, teases the band of the leather pants. Fett is looking at him with intent, breathing controlled and tight. Fuck, he wants him now.

“That’s an interesting offer,” a hand takes his wrist to get it away from skin. “And your friend?”  
“Quin won’t miss me,” he shrugs.

The hand holding his wrist slides to his hand, fingers skim his skin, massaging his palm then the back of his hand. He can’t even get off of the stool, Fett’s body blocking him on it. He takes his hand in his, the contrast between their skin’s colors is almost shocking, pale disappearing in the cradle of brown. Then, Fett holds his hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles, his fingers.

“Where?” he asks, a bit breathless.

Fett smirks at him, he takes a step back from the stool and tugs on his hand to make him go down and follow him. He didn’t answer. That’s fine. He lets himself be guided to the entrance then a street nearby where a bike is parked. He raises a curious eyebrow as Fett lets his hand go to open the bike’s saddle. He gets a spare helmet and a ride in the back, his chest against the leather jacket Fett put on. He dozes a bit, arms encircling a waist and warmth of a shoulder making the helmet’s visor foggy. When he comes to, they’re in a different part of town.

“Is that where you make my body disappear?” he teases as he gets down the bike.

Fett gets his helmet off and shakes his head, brown curls flying everywhere. He smirks at him and pushes his bike to a spot nearby and locks it. He drags him to a flat in an old building with no elevator and a yellow bulb painting the stairs with sharp shadow. Not exactly what he expected of the CEO of MandaInc.

The rest of his curiosity quickly flies by the windows because there is kisses as soon as the door of the flat closes after them. He loses himself in the kisses, the caresses, the bed’s sheets.

Later, he’s sprawled on the bed, enjoying the feel of hands on his skin counting his freckles. It’s a bit silly, the fingers tickle him a bit and he groans, flips on his belly to escape them.

“Hnmrnooo lemme go,” he whines.  
“Hmhm, no, you’re too fun to poke. How did you end up working for Kryze? You’re way too cute for someone like her.”  
“T’was a job,” he yawns.  
“Really? That’s what you do for a living? Industrial spying?”  
“No. PI work. We have an office. Was just there in recon. You done interrogating me?”

Jango laughs at him and settles on his side, one arm coming around his waist as he nuzzles his hair.

“Stay for breakfast tomorrow?”  
“’Kay. You owe me anyway, that busted job ruined my day.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am @madluluwriting on tumblr! Come say hi I don't bite and sometimes there are things I don't post on ao3.  
> Leave a comment or a kudo if you liked my story! Comments are the writer's food!


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